


Well Isn't This Perfect

by Kaelynisfree



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 01:25:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10652100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaelynisfree/pseuds/Kaelynisfree
Summary: Stuck on the falcon for 30 hours and Leia just wants a nap and maybe a warm meal.





	Well Isn't This Perfect

They don’t spend a lot of time on the Falcon. It’s sort of like driving a semi. You drive it to the next stop, fill up her tank, sleep at rest stop or weigh station and then go on your merry way. She was never intended as a long distance transport. Her hyperdrive was advanced enough that even during a long haul, it only took a little more than a half a day to get from port to port. 

Needless to say, she was never intended as a living space. 

That did not mean Han Solo never tried, much to Leia’s chagrin. 

“There’s a bed near the galley you can nap on, Leia.”

She paced crankily down the hallway from the cockpit. “I don’t need a nap, Han. I need sleep. And proper food. I’ve been trapped on this ship for over 30 hours. Weren’t we supposed to stop 12 hours ago?”

Han threw his hands up in the air and shrugged. “Look. We’ve hit a little snafu. Got the wrong coordinates. But we’ll be there in… six hours.”

Incredible. She glared at Han for a moment. “6 hours?”

“6,” he said with a glint of hope in his eyes.

“Fine. But you’re renting us a room with a big bed that we are going to sleep on the whole night. None of this ‘get up early and leave before anyone can notice we haven’t ‘paid’ for the room garbage.”

Han scrunched up his nose, prepared to fight her on this but she stared him down, the kind of glare that puts the fear of god in a man’s heart. 

“Han.” Her hands rested on her hips, her glare unrelenting. 

“Fine,” he finally acquiesced, staring straight at her. He would not admit defeat. “I’ll even buy you dinner.”

He dipped in to kiss her, but before he reach her lips, she stomped off to the galley to find the "bed". Which was, in fact, the worst place in the galaxy to sleep. She suspected whoever designed the falcon had not thought of comfort in the entire process. The cot she had in her cell in the Death Star was more comfortable than this weird brick laid set of cushions. 

After carefully climbing in to the nook, Leia tossed and turned for a good 30 minutes before her exhaustion became to much and she fell into sleep; a terrible, disjointed curve filled sleep. She awakened not 20 minutes later to the sounds of movement and clanging in the galley. Which was not even a proper galley, but a tiny kitchenette that was recently installed. (When asked how he prepared food before, Han would shrug. It was disconcerting to say the least. Maybe that was why he was so skinny.)

Leia sat up from the cot, and swung around to see what could possibly be making that much noise. It was then when she began to smell something burning. 

Her frown softened into that of a small smirk as she watched him. “Han, what are you doing?”

He grunted, continuing to stir something, scraping the metal spoon against the bottom of the pot. “What’s it look like? I’m cooking. For you.” 

She chuckled and sat up. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Eh, well, there’s nothing better to do. Besides. I owe you dinner, don’t I?” 

She rolled her eyes, but her smile remained. “You know that isn’t what I meant, right?” 

She slide out of the nook, bare feet padding along the cold metal of the Falcon’s floor, stopping behind him to loop her arms around his waist, her chin resting atop his shoulder to get a look at the mess that was currently burning evening in the pan. He turned his head, not looking away from his concoction to place a small kiss on the side of her head.

“Han, what is that?” 

He shrugged. “I don’t know." It was a very non-committal answer. Leia tried not to outwardly grown. "It’s one of the protein MREs mixed with a caffeine booster. Not exactly sure what is in it...” 

It’s then that she couldn’t help but laugh. “Really.”

He nodded, a little sheepishly, continuing to stir. "I though it would get better the more I stirred but it only seems to be getting more pungent..."

She hugged him tighter and planted a kiss on his cheek. "It's alright, I'm sure Chewy won't let it go to waste."

They heard Chewy before they could see him. He padded in as if summoned by the sound of his own name, eyes on the pot of whatever was cooking and let out another roar. 

“It’s for Leia! Not you! I made it as an apology,” Han quipped, pulling the pan away from grabbing hands.

Chewbacca pouted, crossing his arms across his chest. He howled again.

Han looked at him like he was crazy. “Excuse me? Why do I owe you an apology?!’

Chewie replied, and his arms tightened across his chest. 

“Fine. I’m sorry we got lost. You happy?” 

Chewie’s arms were still crossed. 

Leia looked at the meal and looks back at Chewbacca. “If you want it, it’s all yours, Chewie.” 

Han stepped back from her, offended as Chewie sprung to action, going straight for the pan. Han stared, open mouthed as Chewie walked from the galley with the food he’d slaved a whole 10 minutes over. It was almost an eternity. 

The wookie waved him off, headed back for the cockpit. Someone had to fly this ship. 

Leia shook with laughter, leaning into Han, tears springing to her eyes. 

“What is it now?” Han asked.

She shook her head, trying to catch her breath. “Nothing… it’s nothing…”

She busted out again, stitching forming in her side. 

“Leia, what’s so funny?” 

She straightened up, trying to be serious, but cracks of a smile broke her stoic look. “I just was just thinking.. this is the perfect way to end our honey moon, isn’t it?”


End file.
